On the Emerald Ocean
by Sonnet Lacewing
Summary: Onboard a ship, bound for the Emperor Mage, a few of our favorite characters study their own imperfections.
1. Chapter 1

**On the Emerald Sea  
**

_Disclaimer: All of Tortall is the sole property of Tamora Pierce, who has kindly decided not bar us from borrowing, manipulating and otherwise perverting her fine tales. What a gal_!

He stood on the deck of the ship, arms resting on the ledge, overlooking the water as it lapped the port side of the vessel. In the distance, a dolphin leapt in the water, paralleling their journey with the curiosity common to the creatures. The "mah" of numerous seagulls competed against the slap of the waves, creating music of a sort, punctuated by the "fwaaapp" of the breeze against the sail. But for this sea-bound serenade, all was quiet. There were no orders being called to the rigging crew, and no chanteys yet this morning. They'd been underway for four days, but already Numair had discovered the wonder of these early hours – a time he would normally have slept through easily, were he at home in his tower amongst numerous books and experiments to draw his attention through that section of night that was never even grazed by sunlight. Onboard, his experiments and studies had been halted by the dread of the destination. And while he was not prone to sea-sickness, trying to read while being jostled by the never-ending stirs of the sea were enough to turn anyone's stomach, let alone a poor traveler's stomach, such as his. The lack of academic stimulus didn't bother him that much; there were far too many interruptions anyway.

Numair shivered a little as he was caught by another spray off the water. He wasn't exactly cold. He'd noted before how anxiety had the effect of pulling heat from the body. It was, therefore, an illusion – one which he was exerting his control over by refusing to go below for warmer clothing. He'd needed a moment of reverie and was unwilling to sacrifice it even to a chill, though it was about to be dashed by an outside influence. The sound of someone being violently sick on the starboard side effectively shook him from his serenity.

"Too much o' the spirits," the captain said with a smirk as he passed Numair, pointing at the hunched figure, emptying her stomach into the rolling water.

"I daresay she wishes it were that simple," Numair replied, smiling at the captain.

They shared a knowing look. This was hardly new. Poor Alanna hated traveling by sea with a passion. She hated the ships and their lack of space. She hated the dirty rigging and the constant diet of fish – not that she could have kept anything down. Most of all, she hated the motion.

"I kep' askin' weren't there no magics to fix it all," the captain remarked. "She jus' glared, turned green, an' spit up her toenails."

That image was nearly too much. Numair sputtered in a poorly masked effort not to laugh. "There are numerous methods," he responded, once he had control of himself. "It is the Lioness' nature to refuse the easy way. Although she is allergic to the precise compound that could give her relief, she could simply sleep through the voyage."

"Wish she would," the captain countered, his dark brows narrowing. "I swear it's leavin' a wash line down my girl." He made a sweeping gesture to indicate the boat. "Least she oughta' vary her sick perch."

Numair folded his knuckles against his mouth, again trying to stifle a chuckle. Apparently, stomach acid was hard on the finish of the ship. "I'll ummm – try to suggest that," he told the captain, giving up the fight against laughter. The two men sniggered for a moment before the captain resumed his rounds, and Numair headed toward Alanna. Such a task would have to be handled delicately; Alanna was surely out of humor by now.

As he approached the red-head, Numair could hear that she had been reduced to heaving. Probably, there was nothing much left to vomit. He closed the distance cautiously, patting her back sympathetically. "There are moments I wish I had a gift to heal," he offered softly.

She turned her pallid face at him and glared. "Is that supposed to be funny," she growled hoarsely.

"No," he returned managing to keep a straight face. "I simply figure this is something you cannot heal within your self, or you would have. No one likes to see their friends this miserable."

Alanna actually seemed to soften – a rare occurrence. "Sympathy then," she observed speculatively before the next wave of dry heaves hit her.

"Afraid so," he replied. "Alanna, I have some dreamrose. You could sleep until we reach Carthak. Surely that must be preferable..."

"Hardly!" she practically spat. "At least awake, I know what's going on. I can help if there's trouble, I can..." She hurriedly leaned over the rail again, heaving more nothing.

"You can't do much when you're incapacitated this way anyway," he argued. He ducked the clumsy purple magic that she aimed at him. It would have stung and nothing more – a tiny magic smack of irritation. But it demonstrated how bad her suffering was that she couldn't even land a spell on him.

He stood there, waiting. She'd made his point for him and he knew it.

"Dreamrose, huh?" she asked eventually, when the spasm had subsided.

"You can dose yourself," he suggested. "I'll have Daine look in on you regularly and keep your cabin door magically locked otherwise. You can, of course, let yourself out if you want."

"A good sleep might not be unwelcome." Her eyes were not meeting his. Was that shame?

"We can keep this between us," he suggested. "No one has to know unless you want them too."

"It's a weakness," she muttered.

"Oh, good. I was starting to think you didn't have any."

She stared at him for a moment, eyes wide before she burst into laughter, hitting him with a blast of vomit-scented breath. He tactfully kept his composure. "May you never discover the depth of my own flaws," he added.

"Taste in women is right up there, vanity, poor housekeeping..." she teased as the pair began to walk below.

"Let's not make a list, all right?" Those three he could live with. But there were much worse flaws friends could discover about Numair, most of which had their roots in Carthak, the very place they were heading.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Please insert general, generic disclaimer here.

_a/n: Thanks for all the great feedback_

Chapter 2

Alanna mixed a very tiny amount of the powder into a glass of water and laid the packet down on the minuscule table in her cramped cabin. She didn't sip the mixture right away, but stared at the surface, wondering if she was taking the coward's way out of this journey. Before she could answer her own question, she heard a light rap at the door followed by a faint whistling sound.

"Come in, Daine," she called gruffly, not bothering to get up. The curly haired teenager appeared, her blue dragonet in tow. Daine was carrying a mug of something hot, the steam rising off it in curlicues of vapor that spread a delicious scent through the small space. Alanna's badly abused stomach rumbled audibly at the aroma.

"Numair said I should bring this to you," Daine informed her with a smile. "Does this mean you're feeling better?"

"Hmmm," Alanna grunted more than answered. As much as she longed to take the mug, the thought of adding more fuel to be spilled into the rolling sea was distressful enough to make her consider refusing.

"It's just broth," Daine said, as if Alanna had asked. "We thought you might handle it better than anything else, and Numair said you were planning to sleep, so hopefully it will stay down, and might keep your stomach from waking you."

That made sense, and Alanna nodded and reached for the mug almost eagerly. It was then that Daine spied the brown package on the table, and though the name was written in an ancient language that probably only Numair could read, Daine recognized his handwriting and traced the letters with her index finger. Alanna expected her to comment on the sleep inducement, but she didn't. She merely smiled politely. "Jon owes you big for this, doesn't he?" Daine asked at last.

Alanna blew on the surface of the broth feeling almost nourished by the wonderful aroma. "Why do you say that?"

"Even as his champion, you probably thought twice about going, simply for the sufferin'."

Alanna couldn't help but smile. "Yeah, well, I'll punish him later."

"Numair's not much better, though he won't talk. He's fair moody though."

"I suspect you are the only one who thinks this is a big adventure," Alanna teased, finally taking a sip. Goddess it tasted marvelous! She forced herself not to gulp the contents in one swallow, but when the cup was emptied, she couldn't resist wiping a finger around the inner surface of the cup to collect the last residue, then licking her digit clean. She saw Daine glance at her and try not to look, lest she might giggle.

"I'm not all that sure it's an adventure, though there are many animals I'm looking forward to seeing. I've seen pictures, sure. But that's not half so good as getting to meet them and chat."

Alanna grinned at the girl amused, as she subsequently picked up the other cup and sipped a bit of the dreamrose mixture. By comparison, it was bland, though overly sweet. She set it back down and pulled out her sleeping gown.

"I'm a little interested in seeing where Numair spent his youth," Daine went on in a friendly manner. "But I'll never be as excited as Kit."

"Adventures are for the young," Alanna observed, though not convinced herself.

Daine's brow knit skeptically. "You don't believe that, do you?"

"No, I don't," Alanna admitted with a sigh. "Just thought I'd try it on for size. Trouble is, it just doesn't fit."

Daine began to laugh at the metaphor.

"But I'm fairly certain George would prefer if I thought so. He keeps hoping I'll come home and stay awhile, instead of running from one emergency to the next."

"But he loves you just the way you are," Daine defended.

"Of course he does, Daine," Alanna replied. "But people are rarely of one mind on any subject, and that is especially true where matters of the heart are concerned. I also wish I wasn't always running – usually while I'm tending to some matter. I think during each crisis, 'this time I'm going home when I'm done and I'm never straying from my children again.' Then I get there, to the Swoop, and I enjoy the first couple days. Before I know it, I'm restless for my next task. I suspect you will find you are the same someday.

"Oh, I know I am," Daine answered simply. "Marriage and children are not for me. Think of all the people I'd miss meeting!"

Alanna knew that by people, Daine actually meant animals. "Love will change that, Daine. Once I was sure I never even wanted to have children. Time has a way of making fools of us all." Alanna yawned, feeling extremely warm and very sleepy. It was all she could do to undress and pull her sleeping gown on. She lay down on her bunk and watched with heavy eyes as Daine pulled the blanket over her shoulder and tucked her in, like one might do a small child. Tired as she was, Alanna did not miss the irony of that observation. She thought she said, "You'll make a fine mother some day – better than I've been," but she wasn't sure if it had actually been put to words or merely thought before she was drifting into blissful sleep.

Alanna's thoughts wandered in her dream state to Pirate's Swoop, where George was walking with all three children toward the forest. There was a large basket on his arm, and Thom carried a blanket. The twins were horsing around behind him, racing past trees and grasping pebbles to throw at each other. George didn't remark one way or the other, aware at all times where each child was, though not showing it overtly. When one of the pebbles pelted Thom in the face, he became exasperated and shot a glistening bolt of purple light at both, knocking them off their feet. Alanna had not even known that Thom knew that spell. George told Thom to mind his manners, and the older boy looked chastised and a little superior as they reached their destination -- a clearing on a cliff, overlooking the whole span of Pirate's Swoop. It was a breathtaking sight: a lovely autumn day where the grass was still tall and the trees were just starting to turn colors. It was perfect picnic weather.

Thom spread the blanket and George set down the basket, which was filled with delectable treats from the cook's fine efforts. Aly flopped down on her belly, picking at a piece of bread her father had handed her. "Why can't ma be here?" Aly whined moodily.

"She's on an important mission for our king," Thom answered with a superior air. Something about his demeanor reminded Alanna so much of his namesake, a fact which worried her greatly.

"She's here in spirit," George said, looking out at the expanse before him. But there was regret in his hazel eyes. "Now eat in a hurry, or I'll be hunting butterflies by m'self!"


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: My plot, Tamora Pierce's world -- you get the drift.

**Chapter 3 **

Daine tried to usher Kitten out of the small room hurriedly, as Alanna drifted into unconsciousness. Whatever Numair had given her to help her sleep was powerful, and Alanna sighed once before her eyes began to move beneath closed eyelids, as if she were in the deepest part of sleep instantaneously.

Daine felt sorry for Alanna, who had clearly suffered this trip. Daine barely noticed the effects of the motion, and she thought her friend Miri would be proud of her instant sea legs. Daine had not grown up around ships as Miri had. In fact, her birth home of Snowsdale was about as far as one could get from a port.

She thought over everything Alanna had said as she walked up the steps to the deck. Daine had given very little thought to her prospects for marriage and family. Most days, she tended to think in terms of forever with every responsibility -- not as if she believed things would never change, for she knew the change was inevitable; she simply couldn't imagine any alteration. Daine couldn't imagine a time when she wouldn't spend hours studying under Numair's careful direction, or when she wouldn't help Onua choose the spring ponies and care for them. She knew little about courting and disliked the frivolity involved in the process. The notion of spending hours being stuffed into a corset and painting her eyes was very absurd when there were people to help and ponies to talk to. And yet, part of her was aware that she'd embarked on something significant and maybe life altering. It was as if she could smell it riding the salt air.

Kitten trilled a question from behind her and Daine turned to answer. "No, you better stay out of the galley if you know what's good for you," she warned. "You make the whole crew nervous, you know?"

Kitten chirped indignantly, and Daine understood her meaning perfectly. The sailors _were_ superstitious and spent far too much time making the sign against evil rather than seeing the world for what it was. Immortals made them nervous, and they seemed incapable of sorting the good ones from the bad ones, lumping them all into the "bad" category.

"I know you're just curious, Kit. But you can't expect them to accept you if you keep making trouble everywhere you go. And I think the sailors were a little scared when you tasted coal. We'd consider that a bad thing to eat, which you know perfectly well."

The little dragon turned up her nose and whirled, showing Daine her spine and tail. Daine stifled a laugh.

"That's a gesture even I can understand," Master Harailt's voice called out from the doorway. "Whatever you said, she didn't like." He looked amused.

"She gets fair insulted over plain fact," Daine explained, louder than necessary. Kit turned purple. She was pouting now.

"You've been up top for most of the trip," Harailt observed in a friendly manner. "Do you like to sail?"

"Very much," Daine replied. "There are so many creatures beneath the waves. It's like the whole ocean wants to say hello."

Harailt grinned at her. "So you spent all that time utilizing your magic then?"

"Well, not much of it. I'm dying to try a shape-shift to something really unusual, but Numair says I might get distracted and lose sight of the ship. He's also not sure what will happen if I get too tired and I'm deep underwater." It was actually something that was gnawing at her. It was very unlike Numair to discourage experimentation within her power. Yes, he wanted her to be safe, but he was being more protective than usual. The fact that he was distant as well left Daine a little annoyed, but aside from Kit, she'd not told anyone that.

"Numair is right to be cautious," Harailt replied, almost as if he were defending his colleague. "Vigilance usually pays off in the end." They were on deck now, standing at the aft railing, watching the water sluice back into the space cut into the sea by the progress of the large boat. Several dolphins were trailing behind them, calling out to Daine in eager voices, inviting her to come and play with them.

Daine stretched out her mind in greeting, shouting hellos that only the sea life and Kit could hear. More creatures came forward to greet them. She could feel a school of colorful fish trailing beneath the surface to her left, while sea turtles and porpoises moved in closer on the right. Below the boat, thousands more voices shouted a greeting – eels, rays, groupers, sea horses and colorful fish too numerous to name. She could hear a squid in the distance, and even animals that hardly seemed creatures at all: muscles, nautiluses and barnacles. The still bore the voices of the people, but their similarities to Daine and the creatures she'd grown up with were few.

Daine folded herself onto a crate set at the railing edge. She was so caught up in the serenade of greetings, that she didn't notice when Harailt left her side, or even when Kit wandered off to find more exciting pursuits. And though Numair didn't want her to become a sea creature, she could still travel within the mind of one. She had to be careful – if she got too absorbed, she would shape-shift anyway and frighten the sailors. Reminding herself not to lose sight of that caution, she sent her consciousness out to one of the playful dolphins, explained the concept of sharing his mind, and asked if he was willing. The dolphin, who called himself Tiggle, agreed and Daine slipped smoothly into his thoughts.

The transition was easy. Tiggle splashed about, enjoying the feel of the brisk water against his silvery skin. The other dolphins in the pod chirped and twittered, splashing fins and nudging with their beaks until Tiggle raced off after them in a game of tag. It was such delightful fun to slide through the water effortlessly. The various dolphins in the pod quickly became as familiar to Daine as they were to Tiggle, and she could identify each, even if she only saw a fin or nose.

Daine wasn't sure how long she'd been in Tiggle's mind when a cry of shock called her back to herself. She knew instantly that she'd gotten too caught up in what she'd been doing, for she could feel the elongated nose and her vision was obscured by the new position of her eyes. She was a very odd mixture of girl and dolphin, and the first mate was nearly hysterical at having discovered her that way.

Daine quickly changed back to herself and looked behind her. The first mate's screams had called a group of spectators forth. She cringed as she saw the numerous members of the crew making the sign against evil with gusto. Gareth the Elder was trying to calm the first mate down with a long-suffering expression, and Lord Martin was looking extremely put off. It was the latter who demanded, "Did you think it would be a funny prank to upset the ship's crew this way? They're threatening to set us adrift!"

Kit had returned from whatever adventure she'd been up to, and turned pink with indignation for her ma. She began to chatter loudly at Lord Martin in a series of ear splitting whistles, pops and chirps that the noble couldn't possibly understand. And just when she thought it couldn't get worse, Numair appeared at the rear of the throng, his dark eyes thunderous. He raised his hands, and black gift with white sparkles glittered briefly, rendering everyone silent. "Let us not forget," he said very softly, directing his words to the crew, "that we are all here by order of our king."

Lord Gareth smiled gratefully at Numair as the demeanor of the crew changed instantly. Numair didn't miss a beat, continuing with, "My student meant no harm and was merely looking after our safety." Daine was surprised, but tried desperately not to let it show in her face. Numair was actually lying – something he would not have to do if she had not gotten so caught up in her activities. "There is a large kraken out there – a ship killer," he continued, motioning toward the northeast. All of the crew turned wide eyes toward the rolling waves. "She asked a few friends to lure him away, but thought it best if she went along as well via her magic. This is nothing more frightening than her own special kind of spell."

"Why di'nt ya' let us know?" the captain demanded.

"At the time," Numair answered smoothly, "It seemed that dealing with the problem discreetly would avoid hysteria. I can see know that I was mistaken in that assumption." Master Harailt eyed him curiously as if he knew it was a fabrication, though he said nothing.

With each falshood that left Numair's mouth to protect her, Daine felt herself slump down a little lower on her crate. Even if the crew bought the story, she still knew the truth and so did her teacher.

"Then we're lucky ta' have ya' all aboard," the captain concluded, looking at his first mate as he said it. The other man nodded, his eyes still wide.

As the crowd began to disperse, Numair's gaze settled unwaveringly upon Daine. His eyes held disappointment – a fact that wore heavily on her heart. She could have handled the hysterical screams, being called evil and mad, and even the accusations of Lord Martin far easier than she could deal with that look in his eyes.

When all that was left was herself, Kit and Numair, he closed the distance and said, "I suppose this means you'll have to stay close to me for the remainder of the trip." It had been a long time since she'd felt like a child in his presence, but that's how she felt now. She mumbled an apology. Numair turned without a word, long hands folded behind his back. He headed for the steps that led to the cabins, and she followed obediently, knowing that's what his silence meant. Kit fell into line behind them.


	4. Chapter 4

_Disclaimer: I have slipped into the world created by Tamora Pierce, borrowed a chunk, and expanded it. But it still belongs to her._

_A/N: I took a few liberties with Harailt. He is still an unknown quantity for the most part. I picture him as bookish, but shy – a sort of a nerd with an important job. Please understand that this may not match what Tamora Pierce reveals about him in upcoming books. But then, that is the greatest part when writing about very minor characters._

**Chapter Four**

Harailt of Aili stood listening to the crew as they whispered about what they'd just seen. Nameless voices worked the rigging above him remarking things like: "...ship killer, coulda' grabbed us as any time," "My da fell to a kraken. Never had a chance, he did'na," and "I heard stories about that girl callin' one to help up at Pirate's Swoop. It did 'er biddin' and swam itself away with a push from Salmalin and the Lioness." "Cain't no one order a kraken!" "Can too, that little girl done it when she was still playin' wit' dolls!" And on and on they argued until Ral felt dizzy trying to keep up.

Ral stepped carefully toward the railing, remaining a full two feet from the drop. This was the closest he'd come to the edge since they'd pushed off from port. The water was rough this morning, shedding its legendary emerald shade to mirror the overcast skies. Ral could feel his heart pound as shaky limbs refused to inch closer. The threat of a kraken had been a complete fabrication, he was sure of it, and yet it had kept them from being sacrificed to the Wave-Walker's mercies. Ral was a little impressed at Numair Salmalin's ability to think on his feet so convincingly. If pressed to come up with a good reason the sailors should not throw them adrift, Ral knew he would never have invented such a story.

"It's amazing what a little superstition can do, isn't it?" Duke Gareth of Naxen's words had caused Ral to jump ungracefully. "I didn't mean to startle you," he added apologetically. The gray-haired gentleman's eyes held a kindness that always made Ral feel at ease, despite the man's station.

"I should not allow myself to get so wrapped up in my thoughts," Ral replied, taking a discreet step backward. "And to answer your question -- these are loyal sailors in his Majesty's service, so their reaction was a bit unexpected."

"Hmm," the duke agreed with a small nod. "It's good it happened, though."

Ral knew his disagreement had shown on his face, though he said nothing and tried to look curious rather than appalled.

"Oh, I got pretty much the same look from Lord Martin," Duke Gareth said as he grinned. "But, you see, it was a lesson without a high price – one easily smoothed over by a bit of fast talking on Numair's part. It was also a sharp reminder of things we could face in Carthak. I'm sure I don't have to tell you. You have likely experienced that sort of fear turned prejudice before, for you are a gifted mage in your own right. I've had opportunity to travel to villages with The Own where Salmalin was along. People cringe from him. Miss Sarrasri receives an even colder reception. So this test proved the team could protect one another. Every one of us knew that there was no threat of a kraken, but not one of us challenged Numair in front of the crew because we understood the necessity to regain their faith and confidence." He smiled and snorted slightly. "Lord Martin says his cooperation was grudging."

Ral laughed in spite of himself. "You have a gift for seeing the bright side of things, Duke Gareth," he admitted. "I was too distracted by the possibility of being fed to the sharks."

Duke Gareth regarded the waves and stepped to the railing to peer at the sea. As much as he thought it proper to join the duke there, Ral couldn't will his feet to carry him. "If it helps, Master Harailt," Duke Gareth remarked, "I suspect wild magic would have kept all sea monsters away, even sharks."

Ral tried to shrug and laugh nonchalantly, though his voice quavered far more than it should have. This time, he was sure the duke had noticed, for the intelligent green eyes seemed to bore into him. "Can you swim, Master Harailt?" Duke Gareth asked quietly.

His face could not have flushed more. He meant to laugh and say, "Of course!" Certainly it seemed he should be able to. But Ral was not a seasoned liar and what came out was, "I – er – I, uhhh, no." Ral stared at the deck, trying to find a way to explain himself. "I know men who have suffered some traumatic near-drowning in their past, or lost a loved one to a lake, river or sea and can't bear the thought of being in the water. My reasons are far less excusable – I never got around to learning. I spent my childhood with my nose in a book and my youth in magical training. There was a time when I might have jumped in and splashed until I either drowned or found the method, were I so inclined. But as the years have passed, my feet have grown accustomed to solid ground. I fear the closest I will ever get to swimming is a deep bath."

Duke Gareth patted him sympathetically on the shoulder. "I imagine all that water seems extra daunting then," he replied, motioning toward the rolling sea.

Ral nodded, eyeing the water apprehensively. And then as if something had loosened his tongue, he further confessed, "I'm surrounded by people who have embraced life more vigorously than I have. Surely, I should be so bold. I'm a mere shadow to my companions on this trek. Numair is a bit of a kindred spirit, both of us more attracted to books than most people, and yet he seems to have found time to learn things I've little understanding of – including the art of lying. Your station required much of you in political understandings, and yet you are still one of the finest swordsmen in the realm. Gary and Martin have actually been to the crows nest -- something my pounding heart would never let me dream of. And Lady Alanna – she is both a sorceress and a fighter. She knows enough of magic to run a university, while I know only enough of weaponry to cut myself. And I cannot fathom why His Majesty sent me as his representative, when I am not even the most powerful mage on this vessel." He knew he had said too much, allowing himself to talk until he'd admitted his deepest fears.

Duke Gareth met him with a severe stare that Ral nearly quailed at – leaving him to feel like a naughty boy rather than a learned man who had moments of insecurity. Despite the sharp expression, the duke's voice was smooth and soft, and the contrast made his words seem almost divine. "What you must realize, Master Harailt, is that you should never question the judgment of your king. Perhaps he sees in you what you cannot see in yourself. I doubt very much that you would have achieved the place you have otherwise."

The older man turned then, walking along the railing until he stood at the opening on the port side. It left nothing between him and the sea but his own balance. And though the waves rocked the vessel, he rode the deck as gracefully as though he'd spent a lifetime at sea. Ral watched him until Duke Gareth motioned for Ral to join him. Step by step, he moved toward the duke, fighting dread, fear, and a far too overactive imagination – he could picture himself being tossed from the ship like a crewman might discard an apple core. The walk was terrifying, yet he dare not disobey the duke. His final steps were minuscule – babies took larger steps – yet eventually he was standing side by side with Duke Gareth of Naxen.

Ral could see the slap of the waves again the ships walls. His view of the water was unencumbered by railing, glass or distance. There, traveling parallel to the ship so closely that he almost felt he could reach out and touch them, were three porpoises. Ral's fear gave way to fascination. "How long have they been this close?" Ral asked.

"A day," the duke replied, smiling slightly. "It is the effect of the wildmage, no doubt."

At this proximity, Ral could see how their faces seemed to bear permanent mischievous grins. Their skin was shiny and supple and he could see tiny variances that made each distinguishable from the other. The porpoises would jump occasionally and speed up or slow down, always returning to the same spot where the ship might nudge them as it traversed the ocean. "They're treating us as though we're part of their pod," he noted.

The duke chuckled slightly. "And to think, you might have let your hesitation rob you of this." The old man winked and began to walk toward the hold, leaving Ral to stare after him and contemplate the multiple meanings of his statement. What more might fear rob him of? He didn't know. Carthak was unlike any place he'd ever traveled. What wonders would he behold there? What contributions might he, a bookworm mage who had set aside his tomes for an adventure, make toward a peace accord? Perhaps he needed to quit questioning it all, take a few forward steps and look beyond his limits.

"By the way," Duke Gareth called over his shoulder, "you're a natural, you know. I think Alanna might envy you that." Ral looked down, realizing he'd been standing right at the edge for nearly five minutes, his feet spread to a shoulder's width, his knees slightly bent. He'd never reached for the railing to steady himself, his balance had simply adjusted.


	5. Chapter 5

_Disclaimer: All characters, places, and immortal creatures are the creation of Tamora Pierce. _

**Chapter 5**

Duke Gareth walked down the steps with dignity and stepped into his cramped cabin. Despite his reassuring words to Harailt, he was nervous. He couldn't help it; little about this trip was ideal. They needed a treaty with Emperor Ozorne if they were to avoid war, but that didn't make it any less distasteful.

The Duke had seen a lot in his years in Tortall. Only Duke Roger had elicited the same gnawing feeling in the pit of his stomach. Ozorne was slimy, dishonest, calculating – a pure embodiment of evil, though Gareth would never have shared that assessment with anyone. He hadn't even spoken of it to his wife, though she probably knew he was worried – his sleep had been so poor the last month that there was little chance she could miss it. His absence might be welcome to her as she'd get to sleep through the night without hearing him turning over and over, or get up to pace.

Gareth grabbed a sheaf of papers so well-perused that they were starting to look worn. These were customs and cultural dos-and don'ts for Carthak. He probably could recite them word-for-word by now, and yet he kept picking them up to read as if they would hold information he'd never seen before.

Gareth had been a good and loyal servant of three kings, though he only vaguely remembered King Jaason, the empire builder. He had been very young in those days. His service as Prime Minister to King Roald had been challenging, in part because he had a temper that had to be kept in check at all times, though few people knew that. It had been hard to stand by and watch a man he respected be destroyed by his brother. They had had quiet discussions about Duke Roger when the man had returned from the grave, for Gareth had never trusted him. Years of unspoken animosity had been poured into sword practice, which had made him the best in the realm for a large part of his life.

Now during King Jonathan's reign, Gareth had found little to disagree with his king over. But this felt wrong. He understood why Jon was trying, and yet the attacks on Pirates Swoop and Dunlath were still so fresh in Gareth's mind that the mere thought of suffering polite negotiations was almost too much. Gareth was sure Ozorne would try something, and he didn't know if he and his companions would be equal to the task of thwarting it.

There came a firm knock at the door and Gareth stood to answer it. Lord Martin and Gary were there, the former red-faced and obviously angry and the latter looking put-upon. Lord Martin almost instantly launched into a tirade, still about Daine Sarrasri and her dragon. "…as if this wasn't going to be hard enough with bringing that child and her beast to play pranks and…" Gareth tuned him out. They'd already had this argument. He spent a few moments silently going over the cultural differences between Carthak and Tortall in his mind. As he suspected, it was memorized word-for-word.

"…explained to Lord Martin repeatedly that I'm sure this was not a prank." Gareth was startled when he realized his son was speaking now. "I further don't think it is good for us to be at odds with one another."

"I agree," Gareth returned. "You need to let this go, Martin. She is still a student, however talented she may be. It is easy to forget that she is still learning her magic. Accidents happen even to masters, and are much more frequent with students. You certainly cannot hold an accident against her. Now, Numair has abated the crew's worries, but you may bring it all up again if you don't calm down. This is very unlike you, Martin. You are usually a very fair individual. Would you mind telling us what the real problem is?"

That seemed to stop Lord Martin cold. He sputtered like a fish out of water and Gareth saw Gary struggle to conceal a smirk.

"I am nervous about this assignment too," Gareth continued. "It feels wrong. I have knots in my stomach that have nothing to do with seasickness. But each of us was chosen for a reason, Ms Sarrasri included. If her magic unnerves you, that is quite understandable. However, she is a generally delightful youth, if you give her a chance."

Lord Martin wore an expression that told Gareth he'd guessed the problem exactly. However, the younger noble was not about to admit it in so many words. "I'm sure," Lord Martin remarked, "that King Jonathan did not choose to send the dragon."

"She goes with Daine," Gary countered. "And anyway, Ozorne is interested to see her."

"I'm sure he is," Lord Martin remarked acidly.

Unfortunately, Kitten picked this most inopportune moment to snoop. The three men heard a shrill whistle and the door simply fell open. "Do you see?" Lord Martin demanded, jabbing a finger at the open doorway to indicate the dragonet, who had turned a most unusual shade of red. She began to twitter, but Gareth had no idea what that sound meant, though he thought she seemed kind of angry. Perhaps she had overheard them discussing Daine and had come to her guardian's rescue.

"Kitten," Gareth said sternly, hoping she'd understand, "It would be best if you returned to Daine. Don't worry. Lord Martin is just venting frustration that comes from being sent to deal with a madman." The dragon seemed to deflate some, transitioning back to her usual blue shade before turning, snapping her tail defiantly, and leaving the doorway.

"I didn't know you spoke dragon, father," Gary remarked, grinning.

"I didn't either," Gareth replied sardonically. "Perhaps there's a lot that I don't know I can do."

Lord Martin seemed to have calmed a lot. His face had returned to its normal color and his hands were no longer clenched in tight fists. He looked resigned somewhat, but before Gareth could ask, the man said, "Perhaps I was venting, Duke Gareth" He turned back toward Gary. "Prime Minister, I do apologize. I'm not comfortable with the girl or her dragon, but it might be the task that is at the root of it. And I must agree that Ozorne is a madman, though I suppose it is best if we refrain from calling him that from this point on."

Gary chuckled slightly. "If I must," he commented with a comic sigh, lightening the mood immensely. He had not remarked on Martin's sudden formal address and Gareth thought it was best to simply disregard it as well.

"It is a strain to be on the way to such an important mission that feels so doomed to fail," Gareth agreed, then patted Lord Martin on the shoulder. "I have seen many difficult tasks in my years, Martin, and this one still has me on edge. I suggest we all try to relax and not think about this morning again. After all, we pulled together when we needed to – something I'm sure we will do even more efficiently in Carthak."

Gareth pulled a book from his luggage. "Martin, this is one of my favorite books of folk lore. I find it very diverting. Perhaps you would be equally distracted by it, since this is bound to be a long and nerve-racking journey."

"You are very gracious, Duke," Martin returned with a small bow, taking the book and flipping it open to see a drawing of a giant bound in chains. "Hmm!" he voiced his interest, with a small raise of his eyebrows. "May I take this up top?"

"Any where you like," Gareth replied, relieved that another worried soul had been calmed. Now, if only he could alleviate his own worries.

"Thank you, Father," Gary said after Lord Martin had left. "I wasn't getting through to him."

"You're welcome," he said. "However, now I lost my best diversion." The two laughed for a moment.

"Why don't we go topside and join the crew in a little fishing," Gary suggested. "Or we could deprive them of their hard earned coin by playing cards."

Gareth chuckled. "Cocky aren't you? I suspect they might lighten our purses instead," he teased as the pair headed out the door of his cabin. In the corridor, they could see kitten opening more doors with her magic. Gareth just clicked his tongue and shook his head. Gary chuckled all the way to the deck.


	6. Chapter 6

_**Disclaimer: It's Tammy's – you know the drill**_

_A/N: "I Live Life By My Own Rules" spotted the word credenza and asked about it. The answer is so interesting, I thought I'd share with all: _

_By today's standards, a credenza is a closed cabinet for papers and supplies, often the height of a desk. But prior to the 1800s, it would have been a small table, often used as a sideboard. The trick is that it would have been a "credence table" or a "credential" rather than a "credenza". I used the newer name figuring that the others would be too confusing, especially since credential has come to mean something else entirely. The use of modern language versus something older is always a difficulty for writers. So much has changed. If you wanted authenticity, every v should look like a u and vice versa. "You" would be replaced with "thee" and etc. I generally figure that if Tortall is actually in another world, the chances they spoke English are pretty slim, in which case, the text is a translation. However, I try to use the period names for things whenever possible. So I did mean a table rather than a cabinet._

**Chapter 6**

Kit was curious. Despite living with humans all her life, they rarely made completely logical choices. Why, for example, would they lock their cabin doors when opening them was this easy? It's not like anyone had anything that worth hiding any way, or at least not that she could see. With each locked door, she expected to find something amazing standing in the cabin. She never did. Back on land, whenever Numair locked his doors, it was always to protect something fascinating. Kit couldn't always unlock all his protections, but practice made each time easier.

Once, Kit had found a glistening experiment behind one of Numair's locks. With a few whistles, the jars of liquid had grown even brighter. Unfortunately Numair had come along and been very furious about her snooping. He had insisted on checking her over from snout to tail and then summoned Daine to take her away while he examined his effulgent potion.

"I think he's really mad this time," Daine had told her then.

Kit had rolled her eyes and disagreed, though in truth she was not that certain. While Numair rarely lost his temper, threatening an experiment could certainly do the job, especially if it would happen to be dangerous. Kit didn't think it was, but she couldn't really know. And as it turned out, he wasn't that angry, though he'd delivered a stern lecture on snooping. The trouble was that Kit was a dragon, and she was pretty sure that she was born to be curious. On the other paw, maybe that was something she should try to control better.

That was the trouble with being the only one of a species that she knew. There really wasn't anyone to provide an accurate example. Of course, her guardian was one of a kind too. Daine was as much People as she was human. At least she could look like she belonged with friends of either version. Kit was stuck being the only dragon in the mortal realm and none of the spells she knew could make her look like anything other than what she was..

If there was ever a time when Kit wished she could look human, it was this journey. In Corus, most humans had grown used to her presence. But on this ship, the crew whispered, fretted, cursed, or even made the sign against evil every time they saw her. Kit didn't make a habit of worrying about what humans thought – Daine had told her not to. Still, it was difficult to be in the presence of all this animosity and not to feel self-conscious.

The small dragon kicked a seashell that was lying in the corridor. Someone had probably kept this seashell as a good luck charm or to give as a gift. It might have slipped out of their pocket while they hurried up top for something. _Mine now_, she thought moodily. She kicked it again and watched it bounce off the wall. She kicked it repeatedly as she made her way down the corridor, watching it slide into walls and doors only to be repelled again by sheer momentum. When it hit Numair's cabin door, the door gave a little instead. It hadn't been completely closed. Poking her snout a little closer to the opening, Kit could see that Numair sat inside on the bunk while Daine was standing next to the small table, fiddling with something and not looking at her teacher. They didn't appear to be speaking. Numair seemed to be waiting for Daine to give him her attention.

Kit pushed the door and stepped a little further into the doorway, chirping a curious, "What are you doing, Ma?"

Daine turned at the sound and swiped at her eyes. She was crying! Kit was instantly incensed at whatever Numair had said or done to make her ma so sad. Knowing her scales echoed her irritation, the little dragon drew herself up to her full height and launched into a lecture about how Numair should be kinder to Daine. Of course, the best she could do was yell at his knee as he stood and hunched over in the too short cabin.

Numair didn't seem to notice Kit at all.

The mage pushed right past Kit until he was inches in front of Daine. "I didn't even realize…" he started, his expression worried.

"I didn't mean to," Daine interjected. "I shouldn't have." She wore a contrite expression and folded her hands in front of herself.

Kit felt invisible. Her ma didn't even look down at her again.

By the time Numair had taken both Daine's hands in his, Kit decided humans were far too strange. Why she had ever wished to be as strange as they were, she could not imagine. Even their apologies were incoherent or incomplete sentences that made no sense to her whatsoever. _And they tell me they don't understand what I'm saying!_

Kit turned around and left the room feeling irritated.


	7. Chapter 7

_Disclaimer: The characters belong to Tamora Pierce. The dialogue is mine._

_**Chapter Seven**_

"I didn't mean to," Daine interrupted, her long lashes dipping to release another tear, and her rose-colored lips trembling. "I shouldn't have." She folded her hands in front of herself and seemed to shrink. Numair felt his heart in his throat. All this time, he had been waiting her out, imagining that she would want to talk about her time with dolphins as she always did. He'd somehow missed the part when she'd started to cry.

He closed the distance between them, taking her hands in his because he couldn't stand to watch her wring them together that way – as if she were standing before her judge and executioner.

"Don't cry," he pleaded. "Did you think I was… I'm not angry with you, Daine. How could you even think it?" Numair's mind raced over every lesson of the past. He rarely lost his temper, and of those times that he did, he thought he had hidden most of them very well. Besides, he'd never realized that Daine was so affected by it all. She was no shrinking violet. She had withstood far worse words than "I suppose this means you'll have to stay close to me."

She bit her lip and he could almost see her mentally shaking herself. "You lied," she said finally. "You said never to lie or apologize for what I am. Was that because you'll be taking care of that for me?" Daine had straightened and was now glaring at him. She was almost a comic contradiction – trying to look angry while her cheeks were still glistening from the tears she'd shed.

Numair was suddenly struck by the realization that his student was beautiful. When had that happened? One moment she had been awkwardly caught between woman and child and now she'd turned the corner. She could probably have charmed her way out of confusion on deck by batting her eyelashes at the sailors. "Sorry," he mumbled. "It was not my intention to be paradoxical."

"Para what?"

"Uh… antithetic."

"Huh? Numair, you're making no sense."

He stared at her, stunned for a moment, and suddenly he chuckled. "It took you all this time to figure that out?" he asked, grinning sheepishly.

Daine started to laugh. She pulled her hands from his and shoved them around his waist, hugging him as she shook with laughter. For a second, he stood there with his arms elevated, but finally hugged back, tilting his chin to rest on her curly head and laughing along with her. "Does this mean you forgive me for telling you one thing and doing another?" he asked after a while.

Daine let go and looked up at him. "Why, Numair? Was what I did so bad?"

"No," he answered frankly. "But the sailors' reactions were that bad." He sat back down on the bunk and patted the space beside him, inviting her to sit. "I don't have to tell you, Magelet, that people are afraid of power they don't understand. You've seen how they quail before me when I least expect it. You've certainly experienced the prejudice that fear creates when you shape-shift." She nodded. "In that moment, the sailors were so afraid that they were willing to ignore orders from the king. It should not have been that easy to shake their loyalties, but it was."

"I didn't mean to," Daine responded, looking contrite. "I had meant to not get that wrapped up but I…"

"Don't apologize, Magelet. I know you're still learning. Even so, I still make mistakes or have accidents sometimes. I've been a master longer than you've been in training." He watched her bite her lip. "However, I do wish you had come to get me. I could have watched over you, assisted you with your focus and shielded you from view. That's what I'm here for."

"Hardly, Numair! You're here as a representative of the power of Tortall. You earned your place in the diplomats. I'm the sideshow."

Numair frowned. "Precisely when did the ability to heal birds become a sideshow?"

Daine pulled her hands into her lap and tilted her head downward as she mumbled, "You know what I mean. I don't belong in this group. I'm no diplomat. Lord Martin thinks I'm a prank-playing child."

"Are you saying that Lord Martin knows more than Jon?" Numair asked, his eyebrows cocked.

"Don't put words in my mouth," she returned, obviously insulted on Jon's behalf. Numair worked not to laugh.

"Hmmm, maybe not. So then does Lord Martin know more than Alanna?"

"Try suggesting that to her," Daine answered saucily. Numair had to grind his teeth to keep from smiling that time.

"Well then, maybe you think Lord Martin knows more than I do." He couldn't look at her. If he did his smile would betray him.

"In his dreams!" she exclaimed, turning to face him defiantly. Numair felt the grin spread on his face. She saw it and pursed her lips slightly. "You baited me."

"Perhaps a little, Magelet. But the point is you are far more than any sideshow. Yes, you are unusual and sometimes frightening. You are also bright and powerful. And, you are my friend and student. Lord Martin needs to stop maligning you or I might have to have a word with him."

"The day you have only one word with somebody, I'll be shocked," Daine said sarcastically. Numair stared a moment before he burst into laughter.

"Are you trying to say I talk too much?" he choked out.

"Nah, just the right amount. Though sometimes your choice of words is a little lengthy."

He pressed a hand to his chest as if to declare, "Who, me?" though he couldn't stop laughing, which pretty much ruined the effect.

For a long time they laughed without saying much of substance. Though eventually, Daine said, "Thank you, Numair."

"For what," he asked, still expecting a joke. That was the mood at the moment.

"You always manage to make me feel perfectly normal. You're the only one in the world that can do that."

That ended the jocularity, though his mouth settled in a pride-filled expression. "I hope I _don't_ make you feel normal, Magelet. You're not," he admitted gently. "You _are_ special; a one of a kind in a world full of people trying to be imitations of one another. It is my privilege to teach you – even to be around you. Don't you dare forget it." Numair tweaked her nose and was rewarded by her smile. "Now what must I do to convince you to tell me of your visit with the dolphins?"


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: Oh, you know the drill!

Chapter 8

Daine and Numair spent a long time discussing the dolphins. In his normal fashion, Numair managed to draw out every detail of what it was like to swim as a dolphin. The more questions he asked, the more Daine felt like it had been a perfectly normal day. She described the feeling of saltwater against their skin, comparing it to the many silk hangings that Thayet had once used to create a maze for the "faerie folk" to travel through at the last Samhain celebration. Numair was so engrossed that he actually said, "There are moments, Magelet, when I envy your magic."

Daine stared at him, watching his fathomless brown eyes study her from behind long, black lashes. "Envy me?" she asked incredulously. "That's fair foolish. There you are, the most powerful mage in Tortall: you sup with nobles, everyone respects you, and you always, always know what to say in any situation."

"I think, Magelet, that you have far more faith in me than I have in myself." He looked flattered though. "To be honest, I do not always have the right words for any occasion. I've blundered my way through much of my life. If I am more familiar with decorum, it is only because I learned by experience." He leaned in a little as if sharing a secret. "I should tell you that my improprieties and solecisms make yours look like nothing."

"You?" Daine returned teasingly, completely glossing over the fact that she wasn't entirely sure what a sol-uh-whatever was; she thought she understood his intent. "Didn't you always just read about the local customs and remember every word?" She grinned expectantly, but was surprised to see a touch of sadness flicker across his face.

"You must understand that not all etiquette has been penned for my perusal. There is not a _Players' Guide For Survival,_ for example." He pressed his hands together and laid his chin and nose against his forefingers. The sorrow in his eyes became a stark desolation, and she found herself aching to free him from whatever memory had caused that expression. "For every philosophical question," he added softly, pulling his hands from in front of his face, "there has been an event so tremendous that it left the most intelligent minds in the world unable to separate the good from the bad."

"I don't understand."

"You need an example," he replied. Numair folded his long fingers in his lap for a moment and was so quiet as he struggled for a way to explain himself, that Daine began to wonder if he were waiting for her to say something. Finally he smiled slightly. "Let us discuss the stormwings for a moment. As far back as our history goes, humans have detested stormwings, and why shouldn't they? For many years, they seemed to be a death omen, appearing at the sites of battles and despoiling the dead, feasting on the carnage and fear. In the most black and white of minds, they are bad."

"But they aren't all bad," Daine argued. "Certainly Yolane and Tristan Staghorn were much worse than Rikash and his bunch."

Numair smiled broadly. "Precisely my point, Magelet. I seem to recall a certain young girl who once might have shot them simply because they were there." He winked at her.

"But that was before I knew that they could care for others," Daine defended. She stopped, finally understanding what it was that Numair was saying. "Oh," she remarked, and looked up at her friend and teacher. "So what does that have to do with your blunders?"

"I did not always understand that the line between right and wrong was both absolute and whisper-thin," he answered, his tone returning to serious, and his voice nearly quavering under the weight of the truth it held. "I thought that friends were always good, and enemies were always bad – a traitor was something to loathe, while a patriot something to aspire to be; I acted accordingly."

Daine put her hands on Numair's shoulders, gripping them tightly. She'd never made such a forward gesture, but it seemed the right thing to do. "I know that you were once called a traitor in Carthak, just as I was once called mad. You have shown me that a label means nothing." She pulled her hands from his shoulders and tapped his chest. "It's the Gods that know what's in your heart." That had been something her mother had told her when she'd cried about being called a bastard.

Numair very suddenly cupped her face in his large hands. "Thank you, Magelet," he said so sincerely that she felt a strange leaping sensation in her chest. It had been a long time since she'd seen him behave any way that made her feel like she was seeing the boy inside the man. The last time had been when she'd first met him and they'd had a conversation about hair.

There was a rap at the door, despite the fact that it had not been tightly closed. Numair pulled his hands away abruptly, almost as though they'd been burned, and Daine reacted similarly, backing away a short distance from him. There was a fluttering in her stomach she couldn't explain, and the sudden sensation that she'd been on the verge of a pivotal discovery, only to forget what it was.

"Come in," Numair said in his most business-like tone.

Harailt entered the room, wearing such a contrite expression that Daine was sure he was delivering bad news. "I'm so sorry to interrupt," Harailt said, wringing his hands. "Lord Martin wanted me to deliver a – a message."

Numair raised an eyebrow in such a way that it almost seemed a statement.

"Uhhh, he wanted to know if the two of you would be – uhhh leaving the privacy of Master Salmalin's cabin any time soon. He wanted to discuss a set of protocols for avoiding – situations such as that which we experienced today." Harailt had made no accusations, though it was clear in the stumbling way he'd delivered the message that Lord Martin had made an unfair assumption about Daine and Numair's relationship.

Numair sighed heavily. "Ral, could you please tell Lord Martin that I will meet him in one hour. And do you think you could not so subtly mention that the door was unbarred, so that I don't have to tell him what an idiot he is?"

The contrite expression melted into a grin while Harailt struggled not to chuckle. "Anyone who knows you, Numair, knows you'd never..." Daine watched his eyes flit to her. She could guess the suggestion – she was a midwife's daughter, after all. But Harailt wore the look of one who had just cursed in the presence of a small child.

"You could also tell Lord Martin that we were having a very shameful discussion on the swimming habits of dolphins, if you like," Daine remarked sarcastically. "I know my pulse is racing."

Numair stared at her, his eyebrows nearly disappearing into his hairline. Harailt began to chuckle aloud, no longer trying to hide his amusement.

Daine batted her eyelashes coquettishly and said, "Next time we could talk about sea turtles," putting just enough emphasis on the final two words to make it sound as if the topic were risqué, and wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.

"It was a pretty absurd accusation," Harailt agreed, still wearing an amused grin.

Numair didn't laugh. He wore an unreadable expression that Daine took to mean he was tired of rumors.

"I'll go look in on Alanna," Daine said, and excused herself. For no reason she could explain, she felt the same sense of loss she had before their discussion. Numair's opinion held a weight she'd never realized was there, and the fact that he hadn't smiled took all the wind out of her joke.


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: Yeah, it's Tammy's. But you knew that.

**Chapter Nine**

"She has moments that she seems far too worldly," Harailt remarked, as he watched Daine walk down the hall, her curly hair bobbing with her rhythmic gait. He turned his gaze back to Numair, whose brows were creased as if he were puzzled by something.

His response was delayed, but eventually delivered almost sternly. "A few of us had the luxury or remaining children until adulthood came at its natural pace. Others, like Daine, had it thrust upon them. Do not make the mistake of thinking she's a child as Lord Martin regularly does."

"Regarding Lord Martin – why one hour?" Ral questioned.

"On the advice of someone much wiser than myself, I refuse to come running to his every summons," Numair replied. "His _protocols"_ Numair pronounced every syllable deliberately, "can most certainly wait that long."

Ral studied his friend. "You don't like Lord Martin?"

"I wouldn't go that far," Numair answered, his tone softening. "But I will not let anyone belittle my friends, especially the handful that have seen me at my worst and still consider me companionable." Numair smiled for a moment and then his expression hardened before he added. "If Ozorne lives up to his usual bent, you may see me defend Lord Martin before this is over though."

"Let's hope that all unfolds pleasantly in Carthak," Ral said. He wanted to ask Numair what they should really expect from Ozorne. The group had asked this question in general before departing Tortall, and Numair had given them a tactful and well-thought response. Now Ral found himself wanting to hear the less-diplomatic version. He couldn't find the correct phrasing though. They stood there, uncomfortably silent – or at least Ral was uncomfortable. Numair seemed to be absorbed in a brown-study, contemplating something Ral could not imagine. "Who was the wiser man?" Ral finally asked, grimacing at how it sounded.

"What? Oh, George – George Cooper."

Ral laughed.

"Was he not the image of wisdom you envisioned?" Numair asked mildly.

"It's not that. I just can't think of anyone who manages to rile Lord Martin more often than George Cooper, unless it's Alanna Cooper.

Numair chuckled. "And yet he's forced to respect them. There is something to be said for tenacity, you see -- Martin is being tenaciously imperious, and I am tenaciously reminding him that he is not high on my priority list."

Ral left the room a short while later, still chuckling to himself. Numair Salmalin had a confident air that Ral envied. He had often wondered what it would be like to know you were one of the most powerful mages in the world. For all his study and perseverance, Ral had never been able to achieve anything like that. Ambition had taken him to the top spot in the Royal University. He was powerful, yes, but not the best at anything. He was surrounded by people who held the top titles: Duke Gareth had long held the title "best swordsman" and though Alanna might hold it now, it was unproven in an equal match, Daine Sarrasri was the strongest wildmage ever known, Sir Myles was widely regarded as the smartest man in the country, Queen Thayet was thought the most beautiful woman in the mortal realm, King Jonathan held the title of most respected monarch in history. Most. Best. Strongest. Yet, Ral had no "est" attached to him. It is hard for a garnet to shine brightly when surrounded by diamonds, and Ral could hardly be noteworthy when in the company of such greats. Yet he believed he was a good man – and that had to count for something.

Harailt was so caught up in his thoughts that he nearly walked into Gary. He excused himself to the prime minister, who only grinned at him jovially. "Usually it is me walking into people," Gary remarked.

Harailt chuckled. "I doubt that very much."

"It's the truth. I was notorious for it during my training years, though I admit sometimes it was just because it was funny. I was a bit of a prankster in my youth."

Ral tried to picture the prime minister as a laughing youth, but his respect for the man wouldn't allow it. "You were in the same class of knights as the king, were you not?" Ral asked.

"Yeah. You might say I felt an obligation to take on his share of trouble too, since he couldn't really lower himself." Gary leaned in a little and spoke in an undertone, "Somehow, trouble always managed to find Jon anyway, it was usually accompanied by a red-head called Alan." His eyes twinkled as he said it, and it took a moment for Ral to remember that Alan was actually the name Alanna went by to attend knight training. With this realization came the sudden understanding that Gary had spent his younger years eclipsed by those around him, yet he had neither complained nor relinquished his ambition.

"I was never good at pranks," Ral admitted. "I think I was more often the victim of them. And I'm not a very good liar. I usually find it easier to keep my mouth shut when a companion is bending the truth, even if it is to save us from trouble."

"But your expression doesn't give you away – I notice that earlier. In fact, I'd say you have a good card face."

Ral looked skeptical. "Doesn't my silence betray me?"

"You're not all that talkative in a group anyway – well, not that I've seen. The only time I've heard you speak a lot in a group is when the subject is magic. The way you and Salmalin go on sometimes on magic, I feel like you're speaking a foreign language. And I'm not a novice to the Gift."

"It was never your focus of study though. I devoted my whole life to my Gift," Ral remarked. "Sometimes it feels like I did so at the cost of everything else – no wife, no children, no good stories of misspent youth to spin over too much spirits..."

"So plan on some misspent old age," Gary quipped.

Ral laughed, trying to imagine himself playing pranks as a doddering old man. "Mischief and rheumatism – what a mixture."

Gary laughed heartily. "Maybe you should get into some mischief now."

"I don't know. A king of pranks, I am not. A man has to know where his strengths lie."

"True, but sometimes you have many undiscovered talents – you need only try a few things to trip over them. Come on down and play cards this evening. The crew loves a novice. If I'm right about you, they won't even see you coming."

Ral didn't know why he agreed, but he did. Maybe it was time to live a little.


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: Don't expect much. It's late and my brain stopped working 15 minutes ago.

_a/n: Chapter 9 did originally have a reference to poker which has been edited out. A little research proved that I was severely mistaken in how old that game is. It has several fore-runners, one of which has been selected for this story, primarily because no one is sure how old nas is, which suggests it goes back a long, long way._

_**Chapter 10**_

By midnight, Gary was regretting his decision to bring Harailt to the card table. While Gary had envisioned Ral cleaning out the crew, he'd hardly imagined that Ral would beat _him_. Gary couldn't help but wonder how the mage had learned the game so well, in such a short time. They'd started out with Ral repeatedly checking rules. In the middle of one hand, Ral had suddenly asked what beat the "court full". They'd all folded with simultaneous exclamations that there was no higher hand in Nas. Ral had promptly said, "Well I hope I get one of those then." His cards had actually been a worthless assortment often called the "mess hand". It had all been downhill from there.

Gary had been under the impression that Ral's silence would give his duplicity away. On the contrary, concentration of any type left the Royal Dean silent as a spider. Gary always seemed to guess the wrong way, falling for masterful bluffs and lucky breaks equally. It wasn't long until the stack of coins in front of Harailt was huge, while the others were down to their purse linings. Gary had foolishly kept trying to beat his mage-friend long after most of the hands had dropped from the game.

Even now, Gary surveyed his cards with uncertainty. He'd been dealt a fairly good hand, but whether Ral's was better or not, Gary just couldn't tell. Gary eyed his opponent. Ral was very quiet, but his face was unreadable; his eyes flickered from one card to the next in a calculating manner over and over, but if that meant he had a good hand or bad hand remained to be seen. Gary suspected, not for the first time, that it was possible Ral was just lucky repeatedly.

A cloud settled over his thoughts, bring unwanted malice. How many times had he, Gary, been in similar positions? He'd taken Ral under his wing, feeling a bit sorry that the Royal Dean seemed out of place amongst his companions. He'd suggested they play, only to find that Harailt seemed to pick up the game faster than anyone Gary had ever known. It was a bit like practicing swords with a young squire called Alan, only to get his sword handed to him after it had been deftly twisted from his hand. A few years later he'd discovered that he'd also been beaten by a girl! Over and over in his life, Gary had introduced friends to an activity or a person, only to have them walk off with top honors, while he was left with a wounded ego. He'd never said a word, of course, fearful of being thought a poor sport or friend. How many sweethearts had Jon's charms deprived him of, and how many titles had Raoul's strength stolen from him?

Not that he hadn't succeeded in anything in his life. He did have a good marriage and an enviable title. But the truth was that his marriage had been more his father's choice than his, and he'd nearly been bred for the role of Prime Minister. No one had been surprised when Jon appointed him that position; it seemed, if anything, inevitable. He'd even attended Knight training because it was expected – though he'd enjoyed it in the end. A small voice in his head added _I did have to earn my knighthood. I did endure my Ordeal. I was top in class at some things._ But another part of him – the brooding part that did not want to admit defeat to Harailt -- challenged _But I will never hold the role of hero in the bard tales. That honor will always go to my king, or Alanna, Raoul, Master Salmalin, or some other larger-than-life personality in my cast of friends._

While the silent battle raged in Gary's head, Harailt very suddenly pressed his cards to the table, face down. "I think I stayed too long this hand," he said with a shrug. Gary stared at the pile of coins in the center of the table, suddenly realizing he'd finally won a round. He reached to scoop the coins toward himself, feeling slightly smug, but forcing himself not to grin. No one liked a tactless winner.

Abruptly, his thoughts changed to self-chastising. Gary had a good life, and he knew it. So what if he didn't inspire any folk-songs? He also didn't have to face the negative side of fame – the harsh judgment of those who barely knew him, fear from those who didn't understand him, and the sickeningly-sweet, false adoration of those who smiled to his face while telling lies about him behind his back. He'd seen Jon suffer all of that repeatedly. People were just as likely to gossip about Raoul as to praise him.

Gary wondered if all people faced this sort of inner conflict, where selfishness clashed with altruism, and self-pity collided with humility. Was it human-nature to be of two-minds in every emotion, choosing which to show the world, while stuffing its opposite into the dark recesses of the thoughts? Thank the Gods that mind-reading was a mostly forgotten magic! Gary was ashamed of himself for each time he had coveted the accolades earned by others.

Gary smiled sheepishly at Harailt. "I had no idea what was in your hand, Ral. You're really, really good at this game."

"Ah, nothing but beginners luck," Ral said with a wave of his hand. "Tomorrow you'll stomp all over me."

"If I've anything left to play with tomorrow," Gary teased, gathering the cards. He began to shuffle them, just as the dragonet wandered into the room, earning a hiss from the few crewmen who were still sitting around watching. Kit made them all nervous.

The light blue dragon eyed the cards curiously as they were mixed, and then let out a shrill whistle that caused the whole deck to fly from Gary's hands and spin in the air, before landing in a heap on the table.

"Do you suppose that means she thinks it's time we turned in?" Harailt asked in half-laugh.

Gary began to chuckle. "Kit, I think you have an unusual _way_ with words." He wasn't sure, but he thought her expression looked self-satisfied. "One thing about it, I'll go to bed with at least some of my purse still intact."

Harailt tilted his head as Gary neatened up the cards. "How do you do that?"

Gary looked up at him, startled. "Do what?"

"Perhaps I'm more competitive. I don't lose gracefully, and I think my response to winning might be even more awkward. You turn it into a joke that's actually funny. I've always admired that about you. It's the reason everyone enjoys your company – you're the most respectful man I've ever met, and others respect _you_ for it."

Gary did not know how to respond, especially given his earlier thoughts on the subject. It seemed almost to answer his unvoiced question – the conflict exists in all minds, but each man chooses what face he will show the world. If so, then the choice is what defines each individual. He twitched his mouth slightly. "No one is perfect, Ral, least of all me," he said at last. "And anyway, I _do_ have a competitive streak, and I _do_ plan to take everything back tomorrow; so don't get used to that heavy purse." He winked.

Harailt just laughed. Then both men stood and headed to their cabins, escorted by one small, blue dragon, who was either immensely curious about their doings, or perhaps who had a molly-coddling streak most unexpected in a dragon.


	11. Chapter 11

Disclaimer: Uhh – you do know it's Tamora Pierce's by now, don't you?

**a/n: I'm sorry I've let this sit so long. I got distracted by a new job and other projects. **

**Chapter 11**

Kit wandered closely behind Master Harailt and Duke Gary, swishing her tail in self-satisfaction. She had upset their card game on purpose, though it might not be necessary. All evening she'd been sensing immortals, but when she tried to search for them, their presence would fade from her perception. She had repeatedly whistled a question to her Ma to learn if everything was all right, but Daine had not noticed anything. Still, Daine had promised to be wary.

Master Harailt and Duke Gary were silent as they traversed the dark corridor. Maybe they also had a sense of foreboding, but were less curious about its nature than the small Dragonet. She preferred to understand everything, especially that which was denied her. Whoever or whatever was keeping a silent surveillance from the edge of her senses definitely didn't want to be discovered, which was all the more encouragement for Kit to keep searching.

Kit had not interrupted Daine's doings, when she began to feel apprehensive. She knew her Ma would sense an immortal attack before it came, but she wanted the rest of the group prepared. Kit wanted them rested if nothing happened this evening, or near their weapons if something did.

She watched as each man entered his cabin, before she wandered back down to the cabin that Daine and Alanna shared. But when she poked her snout in the door, she saw that Daine was digging in her luggage. She retrieved a cloak and donned it.

Kit whistled the question. "You should have told me exactly how nervous you were feeling, Kit," Daine said. "I think they know my range, and, with the help of magic, they're staying out just far enough."

Kit paced worriedly, aware that her scales were changing color with each step, giving away how nervous she was. She flicked her tail toward Alanna's sleeping form and chirped.

"I don't know when she'll wake up. I know she didn't take much of the stuff Numair gave her, and that if she misses any action, she'll be fit to be tied. I'll try to shake her awake. Do you think you can get Numair?"

Kit answered with a whistled, "Of course," before she headed back down the corridor to Numair's cabin. She didn't bother knocking, just whistled to open the door, which was barred with his magic, naturally. Kit let out the loudest whistle she'd ever tried. Every door in the corridor popped open, except Numair's. Heads began to emerge while people tried to figure out why their doors had flown open.

Finally, Numair's door opened and he stuck his tousled head out, just as Lord Martin came down the hall in his nightshirt and demanded, "What is the meaning of this?"

Daine was right behind him. "Sorry, she was only supposed to wake Numair, but it's just as well you're all up. We got trouble."

People began to talk at once and Kit stared from one to another wishing they'd quiet down.

Over Kit's head, Numair stared directly at Daine. "Above or below?"

"Both," she answered. "Just out of range, like they're watching us. They dip closer every so often or I wouldn't know they were there, but Kit feels 'em too."

"You said below too?" Duke Gareth asked. "Do you mean the kraken?"

"Gods, wouldn't that be ironic," Duke Gary remarked.

Numair pinched his long nose. "It doesn't have to be the kraken below. Immortals are not vulnerable the way we are. However, if he senses the opportunity for destruction, the kraken will want to be part of it. Magelet, can you have some of your friends take a look for us? Tell them the risks. It would not be good if our watchers suspect they've been discovered."

Kit turned in time to see that Daine nodded.

"Are they ready to attack?" Harailt questioned looking nervous.

"We need more information to answer that," Numair said.

"What's going on out here?" That was Alanna, who looked barely awake. Gary explained.

Kit whistled, perturbed by the lack of action and the stupid questions. _What are you going to do, Ma?"_

"It seems to me that we must first assess the size of the threat," Numair remarked. "If they are staying out of range, they probably aren't ready to reveal their presence yet…"

"Which makes now the best time to defend ourselves if we can," Duke Gareth finished for him. "Before they follow us to Carthak."

Kit looked from one to the other, wondering what would come next and if they'd allow her to help.

Alanna seemed to have awakened completely, and she began to take over. "Daine, can you estimate how far you can sense?"

"In water, I've stretched my senses a long way before. During the siege at Pirate's Swoop, I went miles hunting for whales before I found the kraken. But I was standing in salt sater, and the kraken had no magic," Kit's Ma answered.

Kit trilled that she had thought she felt stormwings, though they had moved so quickly that she could not be sure.

"I know, Kit. Me too." Daine replied. And then, for the benefit of the others, she explained, "Both Kit and I have briefly felt stormwings. But they disappeared quickly, as if they had slipped from some magical cover for a moment before disappearing behind it again. The feeling was so fast that it left me fair confused if I'd felt it at all or not."

"It's good enough you stirred us all when you did," Alanna remarked. "Let's see if we can clear out the immortal spectators before they clear us out."

"After the exchange this morning, I doubt if the captain will want to be left in the dark this time," Duke Gareth advised.

Alanna, who had been sleeping when the misunderstanding took place, asked what they were talking about, and the Duke filled her in. The Duke subsequently asked Lord Martin to take care of informing the captain and crew, and everyone headed on deck.

As they climbed the cabin stairs, Kit trilled the question to Daine, "Why Lord Martin?"

"He has no magic, Kit. This will not be a fight for swords or spears. Longbows maybe, but only if they come in range. The rest will be up to the mages. He's got no magic, so it's best to give him that task."

Numair, who heard the exchange, added, "You and Kit will be important too, Magelet. Without you, we wouldn't even know they were there."

Kit whistled her pride, and her scales darkened with pleasure. She noticed her Ma's cheeks flushed as well.


	12. Chapter 12

Disclaimer: I didn't do it… Tamora Pierce did.

**Chapter 12**

In the darkness the sea seemed even more endless than it did by day. The moon was absent and there were a few high clouds rolling overhead, blocking out the endless stars, and leaving a slowly moving cottony sheaf much like the foam on the surface of the rolling sea. It seemed almost that their ship was traveling in a bubble, surrounded by deadly water above and below, and as Alanna tried to keep her balance on the rocking bridge, she felt more nausea and more fear than she had ever experienced aboard a ship. She had unsheathed her sword and held it in one hand while the other gripped the ship railing fiercely. If she were in charge of this operation, perhaps her mind would be too preoccupied for fear, but decorum placed that honor on the Prime Minister's shoulders by title, or on Duke Gareth's by seniority. Gary had deferred to his father.

"You really hate traveling by sea, don't you," Master Harailt observed.

Alanna glowered at him. She hated having her shortcomings pointed out.

"I'm scared to death," he went on – a remark that caught her by surprised. "I've never learned to swim. I'm afraid it will be my undoing tonight."

Alanna felt a sudden wash of emotion – a strange mixture of sorrow, relief and gratitude. She wanted and needed someone else's problems to focus on. "I'm glad you confided in me, Harailt. I will keep an eye and no one will let you go overboard without coming to your assistance, you have my word."

"If that Kraken is below us, can we expel him before he breaks our vessel in half?"

"Yes," she answered confidently. "Numair and I sent him on his way before. It was difficult to find the right spells then, but we both remember. Daine is here too, and she can limit his ability to function. She is much stronger than she was the last time they met. Also, we have you this time. The Kraken is in for a surprise if he's down there."

"Thank you, Alanna," he replied, bowing his head slightly.

From a distance, they could see a gull glide by, winging its way to the royal yard, and finding a perch there above the main mast. Seabirds often perched on the yards, taking a rest and irritating crewmen. It would not look out of place, as it might have if the bird had dropped to Daine's arm, though there was no doubt in Alanna's mind that the two were conversing anyway. She turned her attention to Daine who was standing at the aft railing, head bowed, eyes not meeting the bird, though her mind most certainly was.

A light sparkle materialized by her head – a speaking spell, and she heard Numair's voice whisper, "The kraken is close, poking around out of curiosity or maybe a morbid love of human suffering. We have stormwings in the air above and some beneath the surface in a water spell. The stormwings above have hurroks with them and the birds report a total of seventy immortals. The dolphins can't give us a count below because of the spell that is keeping them dry, and we're considering allowing Daine to go down to see if she can get a count. It's risky though."

Alanna looked up at Harailt. "Did you get the same message?"

He nodded. "Can Daine withstand the pressure of a sea dive? What if she's spotted? This seems very risky."

"All things I imagine Numair is reminding her of right now," Alanna said, shooting a look at the pair, who appeared to be arguing.

Alanna glanced apprehensively at the dark rolling water, trying to imagine willingly dropping into the sea in the form of some unfamiliar sea creature and going in search of a group of immortals that doubtlessly wanted to harm her and her friends. Nothing about the premise seemed advisable.

Looking back toward Numair and Daine, Alanna could see that the pair seemed to be arguing more vehemently – something that was very uncommon where Numair was concerned. Though the roaring of the sea buried their words, Alanna could guess the gist of the exchange. Daine pressed one hand over the other against her chest, probably saying, "But I can do this. I know it!" Numair pointed first at the sea and then to the deck, throwing his open hands down in a helpless gesture, as if to say, "If something happens to you down there, I'm stuck here. I won't even know." It would be like jumping off a cliff in the hope that you could fly, which, in Daine's case, was a good gamble, but to anyone else would be certain death.

Daine threw her hands up in frustration, turning her back on Numair, who closed his eyes and took two long breaths, before going after her and placing a hand on her shoulder. She looked livid when she turned, but instantly softened. Alanna let them battle it out, uncertain what she could do to help. She had no notion of how to help, or even what advice to give in this circumstance. The wrong choice could very easily cost Daine her life, or it could cost the rest of them theirs.

Harailt, who was witnessing all the same things Alanna was, commented, "I wonder if he's thought of the veneno cadofilis. I don't think the water pressure would affect the connection – not if _you_ were the anchor." Alanna stared with her mouth open. She'd heard of the spell, of course, though there hadn't been need of such a connection in her lifetime. It would be perfect really, a charmed rope that would provide them a lifeline to watch over Daine if she went under, and to use their combined gifts to pull her to safety. Alanna's healing gift would be ideal if she were the soul that anchored Daine.

"I can't remember the working though, do you? Have you ever had reason to use it?"

Harailt grinned sheepishly. "It was in the first book of incantations I ever bought for myself. I memorized it from cover to cover."

At the aft of the ship, Alanna could see that Numair and Daine had reached an impasse. Daine was trying to argue her faith in herself and her abilities, but Numair's concerns had reached her. "You want to go tell them?" Alanna asked. "It's about time you got to be the hero."

Harailt beamed and walked purposefully toward the pair, ready to offer the needed answer.


	13. Chapter 13

Disclaimer: Twisted Tamora text typed to tickle

**Chapter 13**

The water swirled around her, dark and deep. It caressed her thick skin the way a breeze might on an autumn day; not causing her to shiver the way one might think since she was diving into the ocean in the dead of night. Thick-headed waves crested several fathoms above her, though she heard no crash or cascading sounds. The sea to her was a rich, silent garden with endless rows to wander. The only familiar sense that could reach through the opaque water surrounding her was the weight of Numair's worry, which Daine could swear was heavier than she was currently – a fact that was amazing considering she'd transformed into a fifteen-foot pilot whale.

Somewhere above her, Numair was standing on the deck of the ship, his hands probably still clinging to the rail with a white-knuckled grip, as they'd been when she dived into the water. He wasn't afraid of falling overboard, or even the rocking sea; he rather liked the ocean even though he had a poor traveler's stomach. For some reason, he seemed convinced that Daine was swimming to her doom, and had only allowed her this opportunity after Harailt had reminded him of a spell that was a mouthful to say. She was basically connected to Alanna by what appeared to be a silver cord, though her hands could pass right through it. Alanna would know if she suffered any "medical distress" and would be able to pull her back with help from the others. If she got in trouble and couldn't change back, it wasn't as though they could put a pilot whale in the cargo hold – not easily at least. She'd not mentioned this thought though and, thankfully, it seemed not to have occurred to anyone else.

The water seemed to part before her, its texture feeling somehow lighter than so much water should, like clouds against the wings of an eagle. Daine swished her fluke, propelling herself sharply downward. She'd picked this shape for the ability to dive deep and then surface without suffering from the pressure. She didn't particularly like whales; her encounters with the creatures in the past had not been all that positive. She found whales to be a little selfish. Though she usually was forgiving of the natural behaviors of the _people _and had even once wished they'd stay out of two-legger wars, she found that dogs, horses, wolves, and birds were much more compassionate than whales.

In a crevasse that would only appeal to the lowest of sea creatures, she could sense him now – the kraken. He was busy taking apart the remains of a ship that had sunk long ago. _What are you doing down here?_ Daine wondered, keeping her distance and opening her senses to search for more immortals. The kraken was always on his own side, allying himself with others only if he got something out of it – usually amusement. Still, part of her found the kraken slightly more loveable than most baleen whales. Slightly. If he was helping the nastier groups of stormwings though, it might change her appreciation for him.

The kraken stretched his tentacles and began to shuffle along the sea floor, grabbing bits of the sunken ship and busting them the way a child might smash the thin layers of ice that collected over puddles in the early winter. His mind was relaxed and open, his thoughts a jovial mixture of projected sea chanteys, though the words had been changed.

_They hear the storm a comin', say hi-a-o_

_Better head in for the shore, say hi-a-o_

_So the wind it set a howlin', say hi-a-o_

_And the rain began to pour, say hi-a-o_

_Now the captain knew his riggin', say hi-a-o_

_And he'd weathered many gales, say hi-a-o_

_So he ordered hard-aweather, say hi-a-o_

_And he ordered down his sails, say hi-a-o_

_But me-self I came a courting, say hi-a-o_

_Got a taste for deck I do, say hi-a-o_

_And the ship was so delicious, say hi-a-o_

_I was wishin' it was two, say hi-a-o_

It was a good thing Daine was a whale and couldn't laugh, otherwise she might have. She thought she'd heard most of the same song on board the ship, though the last verse was much different and ended with "Now the Cap'n sails two," since the song was about a ship surviving the worst odds. She thought the crew might spend the next week making the sign against evil over and over if they heard the kraken's version.

She felt the stormwing but never saw it. She did not know by what magic he was walking the bottom of the ocean, or if maybe stormwings simply didn't need to breathe. She'd have to ask Numair. "Almost time," she heard the thought that was sent to the kraken. The kraken twiddled two tentacles idly, the way a bored man might twiddle his thumbs. The creature liked to crush things, and here was an opportunity.

"And if I do this for you, you'll lead me to a fleet to pulverize?" That was the basics of the kraken's thoughts, though much more disjointed than Daine remembered, or maybe he knew someone was listening in.

"As we agreed," came the projected answer. The stormwing retreated, maybe reporting in to the others.

_Can't you smell a lie, Kraken? _she thought, although _smell_ was definitely not an option in this instance. Scent did not travel beneath the waves. But the stormwing's words held the feel of a lie, and she knew instantly that the kraken would be double-crossed, perhaps killed even. She couldn't explain it, but she didn't want him dead.

She swam slightly closer, daring to wish she could somehow protect the Kraken that had once protected her merely because she asked.

-_Squid eater_,- the kraken cooed, and Daine felt him closing the distance. He was no threat yet, but she knew he was talking about her. -_Hunting a large snack?- _ The humor was not lost on her. Pilot whales ate squid – creatures that were probably the closest non-immortal animal to a kraken. Perversely, the kraken ate whales, and could probably swallow Daine in one gulp.

_-Looking for an old friend,- _she responded.

The Kraken seemed to freeze, regarding her. _–Interesting. You speak like a strange little fish I met once. That little fish asked me for help but had no hospitality.-_

_-I had more hospitality than they do. They are planning to hurt you after you destroy our ship.-_

_-Interesting. How are you a whale? And why? Pacifists, weaklings, poor role-models.-_

_-It suited.-_

_-You are a very unusual little fish. Unusual, but interesting.-_

_-Listen,- _she warned, -_My friends won't let you harm the ship. These are friends you've met before and you know what they can do.- _She sent him the image of Numair and Alanna's magic. _ -They chased you out, but didn't kill you. As for _your _new friends – when you cannot crush the ship, they will be fair vexated with you. Let me help keep you safe.-_

The kraken was very amused, his mind-voice dripping with much of the deadly humor he'd used in their previous meeting. _–I'm a fearsome monster, little fish. Two-leggers pray not to see me. I am the source of nightmares, and you think I'm in danger? Interesting.-_

_-They have magic and weapons. If they cut off your tentacles, you will hurt. If they spear your eyes, you could die. I don't know how, but the stormwing is walking around the bottom of the ocean, so they can get to you. How did they find you in the first place?-_

_-I don't hide well,-_ he answered glibly, though she knew it wasn't true. He actually hid very well despite his gigantic size, for he could prowl parts of the ocean that most other creatures could not. Daine had always imagined that the kraken was limited to movement like a giant squid. It was why she had not expected him to show up in time for the siege at Pirate's Swoop. But in a swirl of midnight water, he disappeared, reappearing behind her and grabbing her up with a long tentacle.

Daine would have held her ground, but she felt a sharp tug, as if Alanna were intervening. The kraken coiled himself around her, and Daine felt a strange sensation, like being pulled a dozen directions at once. The kraken very suddenly released her and Daine the whale swam away as fast as her fluke and fins could carry her. It took a few moments for her to realize she could no longer feel any immortals but the kraken at all. The crevasse was gone, and her location was completely unfamiliar. She rose to the surface for a fresh breath, puffing bubbles through her blow hole, but when she topped the waves, there was nothing – she couldn't even feel Kit.

Daine breached the waves over and over, looking for some sign of the ship. Even Alanna's spell had been broken, for the silver cord was no longer visible. Daine the whale stayed at the surface, lobtailing. She was frightened, and not for the first time, she wished she'd listened to Numair.


	14. Chapter 14

Disclaimer: Take a story, twist it up, put the characters in new places and experiences and call it fiction – the true nature of fan fic. These characters were borrowed from Tamora Pierce

**Chapter 14**

His was a world of discovered mysteries, his existence situated in what would be the last frontier on his world. He had seen, felt, touched, and tasted creatures that no two-legger would ever know. He had experienced the feel of ships crumbling in his own limbs, known the song of whales from the deepest abyss, felt the heat of volcanoes long before they expelled their fury to create new land mass. He was a kraken – the most feared of the ocean's children and far older than much of the sea. But no creature had called him friend before.

Little Fish had grown from the essence he had met before, but she was still tiny. Gripped in one of his tentacles, she thrashed her fluke furiously as if she thought he meant to make a snack of her. Although he did eat whales, nothing could have been further from his thoughts. When at last he let her go, she sped away, rising for a breath. He could stop her, but he knew that whales must top every so often, and he actually didn't mean her any harm.

Reaching with his mind, he felt her leap through the waves over and over, working herself to exhaustion. But the kraken waited; of all the skills he possessed, patience was his strongest. He had learned the passage of time only brought more days, more ships, and more meals.

At long last, Little Fish cast her mind back toward his. _–Where am I? Where have you taken me?-_

_-I heeded your warning, Little Fish. We're on the other side of the sea. They will have a bother finding us now,- _he communicated smugly, stretching his many tentacles out and enjoying the great distance he could cover.

Little Fish nearly wept her frustration. She swarmed his mind with images, two of them the two-leggers he detested -- the long man and the short woman that had fire that stung, even through water. But Little Fish did not see them with the ire that he did. Her images were filled with touches and tenderness and joy so overwhelming that the loss of it seemed cruel indeed.

But what about him? Didn't he deserve a companion? And from the swarm of pictures, he could see Little Fish changing from a two-legger to a whale and also from a two-legger to a flyer. Perhaps she could be a kraken too and they could crush things together. As a pair they could inspire fear, the likes of which had never been tasted by sea or land. No fleet would be safe, no explorers would dare to search, no cove would be left untasted, even with the protection of colored fire. But best of all, he would no longer be a solitary force.

_-Friends take care of each other, don't they?- _

Little Fish seemed not to have expected that. She froze, allowing her well-insulated body to rise ever so slowly as she contemplated the implications. _–Have you no other friends, Sir Kraken?- _ And then, as if it had only just occurred to her, she wondered, -_Have you a name?-_

_-Beast is what I am most often called.-_

Again, she seemed taken aback by his answer. **–**_You have no name other than Beast?-_

_-Perhaps I once did, though it was so long ago that I am unable to remember. Beast is a good name. Two-leggers fear the word when they are on the sea, and when it falls from their lips it is often their last cry. How many other creatures can say the same?-_

_-But Beast, it is fair foolish to only know the taste of fear. There are many more feelings in the world to know.-_

He scoffed. –_Which are they? Belonging? I am far too large for schools or pods and would only battle more of my kind if they existed. Maybe you suggest the joy of a mate? Show me the way to a mate and I will gladly introduce myself.- _He let the notion rest, waiting for her to realize the power she held.

_-But there should be more. You should not be all alone; that isn't right. If there is a mate for you in the Emerald Ocean, I imagine you would have found her. Perhaps there is one in another sea. Numair would know. He reads stories from all over the world. I can ask and bring you back the answer.-_

Again his mind was flooded with pictures of the long man. Sometimes there were others with them, but always the long man and Little Fish were together, and she held him as the source of all knowledge in the world. Even now Little Fish had thoughts that were still with the long man, though they were separated by many miles. And then Beast realized what it meant. Octopi were this way; once a mate had been chosen, no other would ever hold that position. When he had met the long man he was with the short woman; but it may only have been to move Beast out of the cove.

He sent images back of days spent in the depths of the ocean, with only destruction to amuse him. He showed Little Fish herself as he imagined her changing to a Kraken. He showed her an image of the pair of them destroying thousands of ships – an image he found delicious.

_-I cannot become an immortal,-_ was all she said.

Beast felt sadness descend, for never is one so alone as when they have a taste of companionship only to have it ripped away_. –Will you only seek your 'old friend' when you are threatened, then?-_

_-I need my pod, Beast. Some creatures prefer solitude. I am not one of them.-_ She sent more images: a two-legger with light hair who was called Ma, a pod of four-legged creatures that Beast knew nothing of, and an image of the long man becoming a bird. So he was a changeling too, and they must be the same species.

Beast was suddenly angry. He wrapped a tentacle around Little Fish and took them both back to where the stormwing Daksha Fireclaw had visited, then he nearly hurled her at the ship. She shot through the water at alarming rate, and only then did he realize what he had done. He reached and grabbed her back, urging her to blow out water before it was too late. When he knew it was safe, he raised her top side, merely waving tentacles at the ship that held her mate.

Beast waited. All the while hoping Little Fish might come back or at least promise a visit. She was silent. He stretched out his senses to check Little Fish over, only to find her mate was gathering her from the water with his sparkling fire. There were no thoughts sent to Beast from Little Fish's ship, and only the stormwing called out, demanding that Beast destroy the vessel.

He might have taken his fury out on Little Fish and her whole pod, but Wave Walker appeared and told him the Gods had received great thanks for Little Fish's safe return – prayers which had come from the long man. His request for Beast to know his gratitude seemed to reach through Beast's anger, for if he ever did have a mate, he would be grateful for anyone who protected her.

Beast took his frustration out on the stormwing the moment that Daksha Fireclaw returned to the bottom of the sea. Beast viciously pulled Daksha's metal wings from his body and hurled the pieces through the water toward the sky, enjoying the feeling of fear from a creature that dined on fear himself. Daksha's death did not come quickly, and Wave Walker did not interfere.

Beast found two of the ships that tasted like Daksha's friends, and he shattered them in his long tentacles, taking particular relish at squashing the two-leggers aboard. Those with fire tried to fight, but Beast would not be stopped until his anger was sated. Then he disappeared to his favorite abyss to forget about Little Fish and the fact that she'd called him a friend, though memory, like time, was something that always seemed to be infinitely recurring.


	15. Chapter 15

_**A/N: So I finally got around to finishing it. Hope you all like it**_

_**Disclaimer: I am not, nor shall I ever be Tamora Pierce. But I love her work.**_

**Chapter 15**

Daine awoke to cheering and she wasn't entirely sure what all the noise was about. Her hair was dry, and she was wrapped in a cloak, but she didn't think much time had passed. Numair's worried face swam into focus, followed shortly by Alanna's smile. "You're fine, youngling. And I think you just took a few years off my life," Alanna said.

Daine's gaze returned to Numair, and she couldn't seem to pull away. For the briefest time, she'd thought she'd never see him again – it was a painful possibility. She sat up shakily and Numair threw his arms around her. "If you even think about going in the water again during this trip, I swear by the Gods that I will pull you out and lock you in a cabin," he muttered in little more than a whisper. Then he let her go.

"Be careful what you threaten, Numair. You may have to eat those words," Alanna observed. Alanna was paste-colored, and Daine was uncertain if that was due to worry, or sea-sickness.

"Is this your cloak?" Daine asked. Then she cringed at the thought she couldn't manage a better first sentence than that.

"As often as you end up in it, it might as well be yours," Numair retorted.

"Why is the crew shouting?" Daine asked.

"Our enemy has been destroyed and we were untouched. Whatever you told that beast, you convinced it to spare us, but it nearly killed you. If it comes within my range, I'm inclined to blow it to pieces," Numair said.

"No!" Daine grabbed Numair's arm. "He didn't mean to hurt me. He's just very lonely. He has no mate – no family. He only has power. Imagine if that was you."

There was an uncomfortable silence as Alanna stared between them. "No, Numair, that isn't you," Alanna stated, as if Numair had said what all were thinking. "Maybe you've never chosen to marry, but you do have family. We're unconventional, but you have us. We worry about you, look out for you, wonder if you're away too long. We forgive your shortcomings and celebrate your triumphs – that's what families do."

"I have no shortcomings," he joked with a large grin. "I don't know what you're talking about." But there was gratitude in his countenance. "And I do have family. They just don't live anywhere near me." He paused, while Daine watched him with pity. As if he couldn't stand the silence, he added, "I'm lucky to have surrogate family that is close."

"Beast doesn't have that. He doesn't even have a proper name other than "beast". He thought I might be able to change to kraken shape and then he wouldn't be alone. He's not used to restraining his anger," Daine explained.

Numair and Alanna stared at her for a moment, mouths open.

"In other words, you got a marriage proposal from a kraken," Numair said. He chuckled

"Well, I have to say that's a twist I didn't expect," Alanna remarked, trying to suppress a laugh, but failing miserably.

"Not exactly," Daine grumbled, feeling slighted.

"Don't feign insult," Numair teased. "That's a compliment if ever I've heard one. He mostly crushes everything he comes in contact with – you, he wants to keep." He scrubbed her hair.

Daine tried to give him sour look, but it _was_ funny. She stood, wrapped the cloak tightly around her, and stared at the water over the port side. "Numair, have you ever heard of another kraken in the Emerald Ocean?"

Numair thought for a moment, pinching the bridge of his long nose. "If there is a second, it is in the north, well above Scanra. But the way this one travels, it's hard to know if those stories are just the same one or not. I also cannot say if it is a male or a female."

Alanna was grinning broadly. "And if it is a she, maybe she doesn't want a mate. She might have a career to consider."

Daine rolled her eyes, while Numair tried not to laugh.

"I'm too tired to send the message now, but I owe him that much," Daine said determinedly.

Numair's expression turned stern. "Daine, he nearly killed you. Why do you owe him anything?"

"But, Numair, he didn't kill me. And he asked me to be a friend. Friends forgive."

"What if a friend does something you can't forgive?" Numair asked.

"Speaking from experience?" Alanna interjected.

"Shouldn't I? There are things that a person can do that simply aren't forgivable. Even I've done things that aren't forgivable."

Daine stared at him. "No," she said defiantly. "You wouldn't. You made some mistakes, that's all. You are the kind of person to always do the best you could. If it wasn't for you, I'd have shot the stormwings in Dunlath, just because they were there. It was you that showed me immortals could be friends."

"She's right, Numair. If you've done things in the past that haunt you, it's only because you have conscience to be haunted," Alanna added. "I suppose we all do that. I've not been the best mother. I have regrets. You cannot rewrite the past. But you can keep trying to do the right thing in the future."

"And look at me," Daine added. "My past isn't clean. I'd say I was fair scary. But you still seem to want me around."

Numair put an arm around each of them. "I'm a very fortunate person. I'm not entirely sure I deserve friends like you. And, Daine, if you want to send a message to 'Beast' I'll help. Please, don't go in the water though. I'm too young to have a heart attack." Daine and Alanna laughed.

Daine saw Numair look where the boat was still headed. She could see in his face that he was dreading their destination. Behind her, the crew had resumed their normal duties, though there was joy in their sea shanties.

Daine walked toward her cabin to dress properly and rest some. Alanna planned to put herself back to sleep now that the excitement was over, so she had gone too. Numair had accompanied them, though Daine wasn't sure why.

"I'll give you your cloak in a minute," Daine promised when they reached the cabin she shared with Alanna.

"It can wait," Numair responded. "I won't be surprised if you end up in it again before this trip is over. You have a tendency to shape change in the oddest places." He was smiling.

"I think he wants you to promise you'll let him know before you send that message to 'Beast'," Alanna said.

"You can both be there, if you like," Daine replied.

"Better safe than sorry," Alanna agreed.

"That would be most prudent," Numair remarked.

"Well, assuming Beast doesn't want to squeeze anyone who might be deemed competition," Alanna observed. She raised her eyebrows at Numair.

"Last I looked, I only have two legs," he replied with a smirk. "He probably wouldn't consider anyone without tentacles much competition at all."

Daine opened the cabin door without saying anything. She was treated to a tirade of squeaks and clicks from Kit, as she and Alanna entered the cabin. She turned to bid goodnight to Numair, but decided that Alanna's warning was too warranted to ignore. "Perhaps it would be best, Numair, if you watched from a safe distance." She yawned. "I really need some sleep."

She shut the door, unaware that he stood frozen, trying to decide what she'd meant by that.

_The End_


End file.
